


situational

by wormsin



Series: BDSM one-shots [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Bondage, Cockwarming, D/s, Gags, M/M, Oral, Rough Sex, Vibrators, extreme breath play, situational bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-24 23:37:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16650049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wormsin/pseuds/wormsin
Summary: sometimes Will comes home and needs to be handled just right. smutty, kinky pwp.





	situational

**Author's Note:**

> what it says on the tin! you can read works like this first and get access to more art on my tumblr https://www.tumblr.com/safe-mode?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwormsin.tumblr.com%2F

When Will arrives home, he has the air about him that Hannibal knows so well: exhaustion and defeat paired with the mad urge to run and rend. He hears it in the way Will’s bag falls heavy in the foyer, smells it in the air like heat lightning, and sees it writ in every line of tension when Will appears in the study doorway.

Will needs something very particular from him.

It’s late, and Hannibal has already eaten. Per their agreement, Will informed him that he would be in after dinner, the case preventing him from giving an estimated time. Hannibal is reading with a glass of Chianti. He has been waiting.

“Are you hungry?” Hannibal asks. Will’s fingers curl around the doorframe, wanting to come closer, but he doesn’t. He shakes his head. “Your dinner is in the oven,” Hannibal says. “Eat, and then come to me.”

Will’s mouth twitches, like a smile with none of that emotion behind it, nods, and goes to the kitchen.

Months ago, Will would have protested or scoffed, and subsequently not gotten what he wanted. Sometimes Hannibal would even deny Will what he needed. But Will wants to be obedient—not generally, not to the world, but to _Hannibal_ , because when Will steps into Hannibal’s world, he is allowed to be magnificent.

Hannibal pays less attention to his reading and more to the faint sounds from the kitchen. He knows, as best he can predict Will—which is never foolproof—that Will is eating everything on his plate. He will be eating slowly and politely, as if Hannibal is there; then will rinse the plate and put it in the washer. He will not, as he wants to, get himself wine or reach for the liquor cabinet. There are rules, after all.

Will returns to the study, and instead of lingering in the doorway he comes right to where Hannibal is seated in front of the fire. Will kneels at his feet, eyes downcast, posture perfect, and Hannibal rewards his beautiful boy by curling his hand in his hair. Will’s eyes flutter, and he leans into the touch with such sweet submission.

“Do you want to talk about the case?” Hannibal asks gently, petting Will’s curls back, nails scraping his scalp.

Will sighs and rests his forehead on Hannibal’s knee. “Not now. I can’t think clearly.”

“Tell me what you want.”

Will whines. He hates that question. It is always easier to do what Hannibal wants, and not worry about his own desires and deserving. Hannibal sees Will think and try to put the words together, fists clenched against his thighs. He wets his lips. “I… just want to be good for _something.”_

Hannibal hears the crack in Will’s defenses, the fissure breaking him raw, and Will shudders at the open wound, biting his lip. His cheeks burn with shame. Hannibal grips the back of his neck and Will gasps, but is grounded by it. “I understand, love,” Hannibal says, and shifts his legs wide. “I can find some use for you.” 

Will moves automatically between Hannibal’s spread legs, hands kept to himself like the good boy he is. Hannibal slides his thumb across Will’s jaw, tipping up his face to see the flush change and spread, thumbing his soft lip. He is so gorgeous like this, already needy, eyes shining with it. Hannibal unbuttons the front of his slacks and Will groans, shifting on his knees.

Will knows exactly what to do. He keeps his hands on his thighs and opens his mouth when Hannibal’s soft cock is free. Hannibal grips himself and rubs the covered glans across Will’s lips, and then places himself inside the wet warmth of Will’s mouth. Will groans deeply, eyes fluttering shut, and sinks down until Hannibal is fully inside of him.

“Good boy,” Hannibal murmurs, and Will shifts again, erect Hannibal is sure. Hannibal resumes petting Will’s hair as he starts to suck gently, and Hannibal fills out slowly. He returns his attention to the book, and sips from his wine, though his hand is quick to return to Will’s head to pet and soothe. Will sits there obediently with a sound of contentment, Hannibal’s cock swelling. Will runs his tongue underneath, presses his lips, settles.

Will knows not to try to get Hannibal off but just to sit there and be a warm hole for him. Thinking about what he wants to do to Will, and his gentle, pretty mouth is enough for Hannibal to grow erect if he allows himself, which he does. When Hannibal is nearly fully hard, Will has to adjust to the size of him. He gags and forces himself down, lips red and stretched around the base, wet with spit. Hannibal twitches as Will’s throat spasms around him, and takes a deep breath to control himself. Will’s throat flutters and swallows around the head of his cock, and he hears Will breathe harshly through his nose; choking and forcing himself to cope with limited air.

Will is perfect, just as he is: is only meant to be gorged on Hannibal, and to try to breathe. Will’s struggle turns Hannibal on like iron in the forge, and he feels himself leak into Will’s throat.

When Will’s breathing veers into hyperventilation, Hannibal grabs his hair and pulls him off his cock. Will’s wet gasp and his ruined mouth are divine visions. He gulps down air, eyes ruined with tears. “Put me away,” Hannibal commands, holding Will’s hair up so it hurts. Will stays kneeling, and his shaking hands tuck Hannibal back into his slacks and does them up, wanting to touch but refraining beautifully.

Hannibal stands and drags Will by the hair through the hall and to the kitchen, down the steps into the cellar and basement dungeon. Will’s breathing is loud and punctuated by whines, but he doesn’t fight. “Please,” he sputters when Hannibal drags him to his toy cabinet. “ _Hannibal.”_

Hannibal stands Will up, and then removes his hands. The absence of touch, he knows, is powerful for Will, nearly a punishment in its own right. Will chokes back a sob as Hannibal turns from him. “Undress,” Hannibal says.

While Will takes care of his clothes, folding them how Hannibal likes and placing them on the designated mantle, Hannibal examines his tools. He’s gathered quite the collection over the years, and he has exactly what Will needs. The cock gag is black, soft, and large, meant to fill Will’s mouth and throat. It is perforated with a sizable hole for limited breathing, as even getting air through his nose will be difficult with the obstruction.

Will is waiting naked with his hands behind his back, eyes attentive. He swallows when he sees what Hannibal has for him, and his cock twitches. Hannibal smiles at him, openly admiring his form, and steps close. His boy opens his mouth and stinks out his pink tongue, so eager to please and be used. Hannibal pushes the gag slowly into Will’s mouth, eyeing the bulge of his cheeks and then throat as all of the length is stuffed inside. Saliva leaks between Will’s stretched, wanton lips, and soon he will be drooling with it. “If something feels wrong, tap out,” Hannibal instructs him. “I won’t let you asphyxiate.”

Will nods, eyes glassy and dark blue.

“Beautiful boy,” Hannibal praises, and kisses his stretched lips. Hannibal licks the spit from them, listening to Will’s breathing adjust; then seals his tongue over the gag hole.

Will stops breathing. His nostrils flare as he tries to breathe that way, and Hannibal can hear the bit of air whistling into his lung. Will’s chest flutters, but he manages to take steady, short breaths through his nose. That’s good—the gag might get stopped up with saliva.

Hannibal steps back and guides Will to a blank stretch of wall. He gets a piano stool and has Will sit on it, legs at a 90 degree angle and back straight against the wall. Then Hannibal gets the rope.

He has a sketch of what he wants in his mind, and examines Will and the suspension point above him. Hannibal takes his time tying Will up and offers no explanation. He fits Will with a collar and loops the rope through the O ring, then through the suspension point above. Then he guides the rope through another point in the floor, tying it, then ties it around Will’s balls and cock. When Hannibal is done he has essentially trapped Will: if he stands up, the rope will pull at his cock (but not constrict it); if Will were to sit on the floor the collar will dig into his jaw painfully and choke him more.

Will’s eyes are curious. He doesn’t yet fully understand Hannibal’s design. “Eight minutes,” Hannibal says, looking at his watch. “Press your back tight against the wall and flex your legs.”

Will’s eyes grow wide as he realizes. The muscles of his body tense up in anticipation.

Hannibal removes the stool. 

Will is squatting against the wall, legs at a perfect right angle, hands flat on either side. The muscles of his thighs and calves strain deliciously, and his stomach flutters. His mouth and jaw look positively whorish stretched around the cock gag, and Hannibal can see where it bulges in Will’s throat. He has to keep his head tipped up to accommodate it.

Will tests his bonds, as he is want to do. Lifting up slightly, he winces as his cock and balls are stretched from his body. Lowering his head, he makes a choked noise as the collar presses against his throat and the gag inside. Will whimpers, and sighs, settling in.

Hannibal is pleased enough, just watching Will’s body work. He is fit and fine, sculpted just for Hannibal. After two minutes his flanks begin to tremble, and he gags hard. Drool slides down his chin and drips between his thighs.

 

“So beautiful,” Hannibal says, stepping close. He pets Will’s straining thigh, hand slipping up the tender inside, brushing his hard cock. “Can you give me more?”

Will nods at once, even though Hannibal is sure he doubts his ability to hold the wall squat for another six minutes. “So good for me,” Hannibal praises.

He returns to the toy collection and selects a small, vibrating plug, curved to press against the prostate. He shows it to Will, who seems to grow weak at the sight, sagging before he has to straighten. Hannibal is greedy, after all, and cruel, and he wants to push Will’s body as far as he can, further than both of them know. Hannibal is uncomfortably hard at the thought.

He kneels besides Will and lubes up the toy. Cupping Will’s ass, he pushes the toy against his hole. It’s impossible for Will to relax like this, and he chokes and sucks air through his nose, not even able to groan or whine. Hannibal pushes steadily, carefully, and at last the toy slips inside and sits perfectly against him.

Will’s shoulders shake; his breaths are short and shallow. Tears leak from his eyes and his legs shake. But he still takes the position, determined beyond sanity to accomplish this task, a task with only the purpose of pleasing Hannibal. And Hannibal is pleased, by the tight lines of rope and the smell of Will’s sweat and strain.

He turns on the vibrator and Will’s eyes roll.

He can’t breathe properly anymore, reduced to sniffs and wheezing, and his red-hot cock leaks precome. Hannibal has to be very attentive now, lest Will be injured when his legs give out. Will’s eyes, when they can meet Hannibal’s, are pleading. “Four minutes,” Hannibal tells him. Will shakes his head, but he doesn’t tap out. “You can do it,” Hannibal insists. “Keep your breathing steady. Try to breathe deeper.”

The short snuffs through his nose stop, and Will attempts to take a longer breath. Without proper oxygen, his body is shutting down, burning and locking up. He has to lift his hips up and there’s a scream behind the gag as his balls and cock are pulled. Will digs his nails into his thighs.

Hannibal is ready to support him if he falls, but Will steadies and returns to the perfect position. Something has broken free in him, and he accepts this reality—his whole reality—trembling and gagging. Will’s eyes are no longer filled with fear, and seem far away.

Hannibal turns up the vibration and watches as Will starts to come, head rolling, legs shaking so furiously that Hannibal can hear where he rattles against the wall and floor. Will spills over his cock, dripping to the floor, and his jaw clenches around the gag. Hannibal turns the vibration down but not off with another press on the toy, then checks his watch.

“You’re so close, my love,” Hannibal coons, stroking Will’s arm down to his hand. “Just one more minute and you can rest.”

Will’s finger curls towards Hannibal, and he hooks their fingers together. How Hannibal loves him.

When Will starts to slide down the wall, Hannibal quickly replaces the bench beneath him. It doesn’t matter, really, that the time isn’t up; Hannibal knows that Will went as far as he could. When he’s seated Will’s limbs go limp and shaking, and he starts choking in earnest, no longer able to tame his breathing. Hannibal unstraps the gag and pulls it slowly free from Will’s spasming orifice, and then Will is sobbing loud and harsh. Hannibal undoes the rope, leaving the collar on, and then tucks Will into his arms. Will clings to him like he’s dying, crying freely. Hannibal lifts him up and carries him to the dark-sheeted bed, pressing him down into it and giving him the comfort of his weight and closeness.

“Hah, hah, Hannibal,” Will gasps, breathing erratic even though he is unrestrained. His voice is absolutely wrecked.

“You were perfect, my love,” Hannibal assures him, and slips the toy from his body.

Will clings to Hannibal’s back and buries his wet face against his neck, shaking like a newly born colt. Hannibal presses between his legs, clothed erection rubbing against him, and Will gives another choked sob. “Yes, god yes.”

Hannibal kisses him with a growl, lapping up spit and tears. He frees his trapped cock and grips it, pressing it to the vulnerable flesh between Will’s legs. He doesn’t want to hurt Will like this tonight, so he reaches to the bedside table and pumps lube into his hand, then strokes it over his aching cock. Will gasps and sobs beneath him, lifting his hips weakly. Will’s smell is sharp in Hannibal’s nose, and he needs him, needs to consume his body entirely.

Hannibal turns Will onto his stomach and puts a pillow beneath his hips. He ruts in the cleft of Will’s ass, smearing the slick, and when he can’t take it anymore he guides himself to Will’s tight hole and forces his way inside.  

Will chokes and lets out a soft cry, but his body is too exhausted to resist. The inside of him is clinging and scorching hot, and Hannibal can only make it halfway inside before he has to stop, and ease back and forth to make room in Will’s body. Will cries, and Hannibal stuffs him full, looking down at the place where Will’s body stretches around him and thumbing his rim. “You feel divine,” Hannibal forces out through gritted teeth, pressing flush. While whines and clenches all around him.

Hannibal rears his head, plants his hands on Will’s shoulders, and mounts him brutally. The dungeon is filled with the sounds of their flesh smacking together and Will’s crying. Though harsh, inflamed, focused solely on his own pleasure, Hannibal pays close attention to Will. He knows his ticks, and can sense when they are crossing into something truly unpleasant. Though sobbing, Will’s need to be used and to pleasure Hannibal is obvious.

So Hannibal takes his full of Will’s body, plunging deep and fast into him, purring at the sweet drag of his flesh. He feels wet and engorged, sucked into Will’s body, and he needs, _needs_ to take Will as hard as he can, to claim him thoroughly. Will’s sobs quiet and become broken moans, and when Hannibal grinds in he swear he can feel Will’s prostate swelling up against the head of his cock. Hannibal presses Will’s face into the pillow, smothering him, and his orgasm crests in him with so many shivering, golden lights.

Will groans loudly against the pillow as Hannibal spills in him, and, still hard, thrusts slowly back and forth. He releases Will’s head and squeezes his hand instead, and Will gives a squeeze in return. Hannibal rests atop him, fucking him lazily until he can no more. He stays in Will until he slips out naturally and then turns them on their side, holding Will close against him and nuzzling his neck. His hair is damp from sweat here, smells warm and sated.

Hannibal turns Will’s face towards him and kisses him gently, and Will responds with weak enthusiasm. “I love you so much,” Will says.

“I love you as well, my darling.” Hannibal traces tear tracks with his thumb. “How do you feel?” 

Will huffs and grins. “Dead tired. Can we lay here a while?”

“Of course.”

They settle together, Will fitting perfectly in the curve of Hannibal’s body. Whatever had kicked up a storm in his mind is settled, for now, and the sound of Will’s contented sigh satisfies Hannibal like nothing else.

 


End file.
